


Love in the Time of Food Critics

by SherlockianSyndromes



Series: The Fine Dining Experience [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14226288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/pseuds/SherlockianSyndromes
Summary: Renowned blogger and food critic Acastus Kolya is coming to review Atlantis, and the only thing that can distract John Sheppard from serving up the best meal of his career is a pastry chef hiding in a fridge.





	Love in the Time of Food Critics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier)!
> 
> Thank you to [nagi_schwarz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz) for the swift beta!

John Sheppard survived each day of his culinary career because he was unreasonably good at writing lists. To do lists. Prep lists. Shopping lists. When John arrived in his office each morning, making a list always seemed like the right thing to begin with, and today was no different.

Well, today _was_ different. More stressful than normal, if such a thing was possible. But still, the ritual of making lists began as soon as John sat at his desk - pen in hand, notepad in front of him. His endless lists started the culinary engine of Atlantis. Without them, there would be chaos.

John buzzed with nervous energy as he thought of the trial that lay before him, and he couldn’t pinpoint where to begin. Luckily, someone knocked on the office door and provided a distraction.

“Who is it?” John asked.

The voice on the other side of the door said, “Bates, sir.”

“Come in.”

Elijah Bates, relief cook of the Atlantis kitchen, opened the door to John’s office, shuffled in, closed the door behind him, and collapsed into one of the two chairs that sat on the opposite side of John’s desk.

“How goes the menu planning?” Bates sank down further into his chair and closed his eyes. He was at the tail end of his overnight shift and looked as if he would fall asleep given just a few minutes.

John tapped the pen in his hand on the thick pad of paper in front of him. He sighed.

“I think it’s done. It’s mostly done. I need to hash dessert out with McKay.”

Bates chuckled and shook his head slowly. “Or you could _tell_ him what he’s making because you’re the boss.”

“I could, and then pastry would come to a screeching halt. Where would we be then?”

“Why did Weir hire that guy anyway? He’s such an ass.”

“Let's just put it this way - he came highly qualified.” John smiled as he answered Bates. He hunched over and began writing out a prep list, hoping Bates wouldn’t notice if his cheeks had gone a little red.

“All right. Whatever you say, Sheppard.” Bates sat up in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “What do we have as of now? I need to know what I’m in for tonight.”

John looked up, but only to turn his computer screen to face Bates. On the screen, there was a Word document formatted to match the Atlantis menu. Bates looked it over while John continued his scribbling.

_Appetizer_

Fried baby artichokes

_Soup_

Garlicky broccoli rabe with pastina

_Fish_

Braised Chilean sea bass

_Salad_

Beefsteak tomato with fried tomato skins

_Entree_

Lamb chops

_Dessert_

???

“Fried tomato skins?” Bates scoffed as he finished reading the proposed menu.

“Think of it as bacon without the actual bacon. The course is meant to be light, but still have a touch of decadence.” John continued writing, finishing up one prep list, and started another.

“Sounds like you have it all figured out.” Bates stood up from his chair and stretched. “Well, minus dessert anyway.”

“If I don’t figure it out, Elizabeth will just serve my head on a platter instead. I’m sure Kolya would get a kick out of that.”

Last night, Elizabeth had sat John down for a serious conversation at the staff’s favorite after-hours haunt, Athosia. She had tried to be as casual as possible, but it was easy to see she was panicking internally.  
  
_So, I heard a rumor from my insider at Genii. Yes, the expeditor. No, we’re not dating. Shut up, she’s just my friend. Sheppard, shut up. No, really. John, Acastus Kolya is going to review the restaurant. Yes, really. On Friday._

John had choked on his drink, then ordered another round for himself and Elizabeth. They’d needed it. Acastus Kolya was coming to Atlantis in two days’ time to eat a meal and review it. _The_ Acastus Kolya, now a well known food critic and blogger, was the former owner of the gourmet rustic hotspot known as Genii.

That was if Elizabeth’s source was worth believing, which John thought was a safe bet. He knew Elizabeth and the Genii expeditor were seeing each other ( _what was her name? Sora_ , he thought) and trying to keep it low key. John was good at spotting that sort of thing.

Mostly because he was busy trying to keep his own feelings for a certain head pastry chef as low key as possible too. It was best to steer clear of things like that, especially in the kitchen, especially when he was in charge and at the end of the day, Rodney McKay answered to him.

It was a headache, either way.

“Sheppard?” Bates was snapping his fingers in front of John’s face. “You in there, boss?”

John shook his head, smiled what he hoped was the most casual smile possible, and went back to his prep list.

“Sorry, Bates. Got a lot on my mind. I promise I’ll have everything plotted out for you tonight, okay?”

Bates nodded and opened the office door. “Yes, sir. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” He shut the door behind him, leaving John alone with his lists.

_We’re all going to need it. Kolya’s review could make or break us._

John started writing his next prep list with fervor. This was it. This was the chance he’d been waiting for to send Atlantis to the top of the New York food scene. And he was going to take it.

*

John felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. It was also loud enough to draw the attention of his saucier, Teyla Emmagan.

“Do you need to get that?” Teyla asked.

John sighed. “No, I need to talk to you about baby artichokes.”

Teyla busied herself at her range top, working on the sauces for tonight’s dinner service. “What about them?”

“A, will you make them, and B, do you think they need a sauce to go with them?”

Teyla raised her eyebrows and let her jaw drop a little in mock surprise. “This man scares you.”

John crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No, he doesn't. I'm just asking for your opinion.”

Teyla nodded. “I am happy to give you my opinion. My opinion is that you should go simple and serve them with lemon, maybe use a finishing salt, and yes, I will make them. But what do _you_ think?”

John grinned. “You read my mind! Thank you.”

Teyla rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “You are welcome, John. And if I can offer some unsolicited advice? Just go with what your gut tells you. That is how we all got here in the first place.” She eyed him for a few seconds longer, as if her lingering look would help the advice stick. Teyla then turned back to her work, stirring and adjusting various burners.

John smirked and turned to leave. “My gut tells me it's time to see a Carson Beckett about a tomato salad.”

“Your phone, John!” Teyla called back to him as he walked away.

“Thank you!” John grabbed his phone from his pocket as he sped toward Beckett’s station. He had received a text from Elizabeth.

_Menu? You're cutting it close, Sheppard._

John was tapping out a reply when somebody grabbed him by the shoulders and brought him to a halt.

“Hasn't anybody warned you of the perils of texting and walking, sir?”

In front of John stood his second-in-command, sous chef Evan Lorne. Instead of answering Lorne’s sarcastic question, he finished his text to Elizabeth.

_Almost. Need to get with McKay on dessert._

“Have you finished the menu?” Lorne narrowed his eyes at John.

“You're not the boss of me.” John shrugged, trying to be lighthearted and at least a little funny. His phone buzzed again.

Lorne laughed. “No, but she is. Do you need help?”

John checked his phone - _Get with Rodney NOW. I'll be there in a half hour. Make sure Lorne can cover for you._ John sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face and through his unruly hair.

“Yes. Can you distribute these prep lists? And tell Beckett I'll have the order to him ASAP.” John shoved a handful of papers at Lorne, who proceeded to glance through them.

“Nothing for pastry?” Lorne raised an eyebrow.

“That's where I'm going now. If I don't come back, tell everyone I died at the hands of a crazed pastry chef.”

*

John approached the pastry station and found the entire pastry team, minus Rodney. Zelenka, Kusanagi, and Grodin were huddled together, speaking in hushed tones and making emphatic hand gestures.

John cleared his throat. “Afternoon, everyone.”

The three of them turned toward him, faces frozen in panic. Zelenka recovered and tried to smile, but it looked more like he was grimacing.

“Afternoon, Sheppard. What can we do for you?” As soon as Zelenka started speaking, Kusanagi and Grodin turned away and found something to keep them busy.

“I’m looking for Rodney. Where is he?” John looked around in case he could catch Rodney jetting around a corner.

Zelenka grimaced again. “Well, you see, sir…” He paused.

John’s eyes went wide. “Zelenka. Where’s Rodney?”

Zelenka sighed, and pointed to the dairy walk-in fridge. “In there.”

John looked at the fridge, and then back at Zelenka. “Why is Rodney in the fridge?”

“Because he swears that I told him we needed to order creme fraiche for today’s dessert, but I told him we needed sour cream.”

John shrugged. “The difference is negligible at best.”

Zelenka shook his head. “It is, yes, but in this case, we need tangy and light, not rich and creamy. Sour cream is definitely tangier and more often than not, lighter than creme fraiche.”

It was John’s turn to sigh. “What are you making again? Something with peaches, right?” He’d been reminded of this because he could see Grodin inspecting and halving peaches in the back. Kusanagi stood next to him, harvesting sprigs of tarragon.

“Yes, Riesling-poached with tarragon and salted…creme fraiche I guess, unless Rodney can find some sour cream in there. We don’t even need that much is the annoying part.”

John nodded, knowing he was going into that fridge and that he was going to deal with an irate Rodney McKay, which was going to be even harder to deal with than a complacent Rodney. He clapped Zelenka on the shoulder.

“Well, I’m going in.”

Zelenka nodded. “Good luck, sir.”

John walked over to the fridge and pulled the heavy metal door open. He was greeted with a cool breeze and Rodney frantically searching shelves and mumbling to himself.

“Radek, please don’t start with me. I heard what I heard. I’m going to find some sour cream, I know we have some.” Rodney huffed and pushed containers around frantically.

“Not Radek. I’ll help you look, though.” John began scanning the metal shelves closest to him.

“Sheppard!” Rodney turned to face John. “Do you have a copy of yesterday’s order?”

“Not with me. But I can probably look it up. Why? Need receipts?”

Rodney folded his arms across his chest, which meant he was either about to get really defensive or he was starting to feel cold, or probably both. “No. Just asking.”

John moved a few more containers and thought he spotted the familiar red stripe that adorned the usual brand of sour cream they used. It was tucked in the back corner of the fridge, and a bunch of other containers and pans had been pushed in front of it. He reached for it and grinned when he saw the whole label.

“One container of sour cream! It’s not even opened.” John pulled it off the shelf and showed it to Rodney.

Rodney frowned. “I’ve been in here ten minutes.”

“Yeah, well,” John said as he handed Rodney the unopened container, “sometimes you just need another pair of eyes.”

“Or I need my crew to keep this fridge in order so things like this don’t happen.”

John shrugged. “Anyway. I need to talk to you about something else.”

Rodney sat the sour cream down in plain sight, rubbed his arms and held them closer to his body. “Can we do this somewhere else maybe? I’m cold.”

John shook his head. “No, this is our best bet for no distractions, and I need to make this decision before Elizabeth comes down here and chews me out.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “So this is about Kolya then?”

“Yes...how did you know?”

“It’s hard to keep secrets around here. So, dessert? Show me the rest of the menu.”

John held up the printed menu. Rodney snatched it out of his hand and immediately scanned it, right down to the ??? under the Dessert heading. John watched Rodney visibly scan the page again and he began to get nervous.

“Any suggestions?”

“No...I...this seems...really good actually.”

John smiled, felt his cheeks burning, and not from the cold air of the fridge. “Thanks. What do you suggest for dessert? That’s kind of…your territory after all.”

“I don’t know, is Elizabeth going to turn her nose up at innovation again?”

John rolled his eyes. “Look, the Pi Day thing was a fluke. She was happy with that tart when we served it the next day, remember?”

Rodney shrugged. “I guess. So, I see you’re trying to go for a decadent but not heavy feel for the whole meal. Mousse maybe? I feel like any sort of pastry is out. Or maybe the lightness needs to come from the flavor here...hmmm…”

Rodney began pacing in short, slightly panicked bursts, since the fridge was a small space. His eyes landed on the now plentiful stock of creme fraiche. “Okay, we have all this creme fraiche to use up now. So let’s start there.”

“Okay.” John began thinking out loud. “Some kind of ice cream?”

Rodney shook his head. “No, that’s too predictable. Also it doesn’t measure up to the rest of the menu. It needs to be a show stopper.”

John folded his arms close to his body and also began pacing a little. Maybe having a meeting in the fridge had been a less than good idea. “Okay, then let’s think flavor.”

“Bright. Needs to be bright, exciting.” Rodney was talking to himself, but was speaking loud enough for John to hear him.

“Citrus? That’s my go-to for bright.” John was throwing out suggestions at random, hoping Rodney’s brain would grab onto something and take off. He took a few small steps toward Rodney, since he was actually starting to feel cold now.

“Citrus and creme fraiche.” Rodney stopped pacing right in front of John, his eyes growing wide. “Panna cotta. We can make panna cotta using the creme fraiche and heavy cream, and then infuse it with citrus. Decadent base. Loud, bright flavors. That’s it!” Rodney grinned, but seemed to hold his breath waiting for John’s approval.

John’s wish had come true. And Rodney was right, it matched up with everything else he was trying to do on the menu. Without thinking, he grabbed Rodney’s face in his hands.

“That  _is_ it! Rodney, you’re a genius!”

There was a pause. Neither of them moved, only stared at each other with ridiculous smiles on their faces. John’s smile started to fade. His gut was telling him to do something. Something very, very stupid.

But he took Teyla’s advice and listened to his gut anyway.

John kissed Rodney then. His lips were cold, slightly chapped from the brisk air. John felt Rodney’s body go rigid and John pulled away almost immediately. He took a step backward.

“I’m - I’m sorry -”

Rodney shook his head, took a step forward. The cooling fan had switched off inside the fridge, so the two of them were standing in silence, the sounds of the kitchen muffled and far away behind the door.

“Don’t be sorry,” Rodney whispered, his hands tentatively curling around John’s waist, “just a little surprised is all.”

John felt his pulse skyrocket, and his body felt warm and tingly head to toe, even though he was quite certain he was still pretty cold. Rodney smiled at him again, started to lean in. John closed his eyes.

And then they heard the  _ka-chunk_ of the fridge door being opened and jumped apart from each other.

Zelenka stood in the doorway. “What’s taking you two so long? Did you find anything or not?”

Rodney cleared his throat and grabbed the sour cream from where he’d sat it before. “It took us so long because somebody doesn’t keep the dairy fridge in order, Radek.” He handed the sour cream to Zelenka and walked past him, out of the fridge.

John remained, staring after Rodney as he walked back into the kitchen. Zelenka still stood in the doorway, keeping the door to the fridge open.

“Sir? Did you get everything sorted out?”

John nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.” He blinked a few times and realized Zelenka was waiting for him to leave the dairy fridge.

“Thanks,” John said, walking past Zelenka and back out into the kitchen. Rodney looked up at him as John strode past the pastry station, back toward his office. They made eye contact for a moment and Rodney smiled slightly.

John kept walking. He bit his lower lip and laughed to himself as he made his way back toward the front of the restaurant. When he passed Teyla, he caught her attention.

“Hey, thanks for the advice by the way.”

She smiled and nodded at him.

When John got back to his office, Elizabeth was there waiting for him.

“Took you long enough. Was Rodney really that insufferable?” she asked.

“No, actually. He was...really great.”

John sat at his computer, opened up Word, and replaced the ??? on the menu.

_Dessert_

Creme fraiche panna cotta with citrus fruit

*

The next morning, John sat at his desk but wrote no lists. He couldn’t think about tomorrow already when tonight was so important. He pulled his tablet out of his bag and started playing one of the several cooking games that he had installed on it. He needed to keep his brain preoccupied for just a few more minutes before he dove head first into the chaos that would be this entire day.

Someone knocked on the door. It was probably Bates.

“Come in.”

Turned out it was both Bates _and_ Lorne. They both sat down across from him without saying anything. John continued to poke at his tablet.

“How’s it going, sir?” Lorne asked, feigning a calm and collected demeanor.

“Oh, you know, just serving pretend doughnuts and pretend milkshakes to pretend customers so I don’t have to think about serving real lamb chops and real panna cotta to real food critics coming tonight.”

Bates chuckled. “That good, huh?”

John finished the level he’d been playing and put his tablet away. “How did the overnight prep go, Bates?”

“Smooth sailing, I promise.”

John nodded. “Lorne, does everyone have their prep lists for tonight?”

“I gave them out yesterday, Sheppard. Well, except to pastry. I assume you got that covered?”

John had avoided the pastry station all through service the night before. He had to put Atlantis and its reputation before his personal feelings, which meant he needed to steer clear of Rodney until all of this was over with.

“Yes, I gave the list to Zelenka before I left last night.”

Bates grinned. “Sounds like we’re golden, boss.”

“You’re buying the first round at Athosia tonight if it all goes to shit.” John stood up from his chair. Lorne burst out laughing as Bates’s face developed a pouty frown.

“Why me? I won’t even be here for service.”

John opened his office door, ushering Lorne and Bates out before him. “Gotta blame somebody. Might as well blame you.”

*

The day went by in a blur. John ran up and down the length of the kitchen, checking in on everyone’s prep work. Had Teyla picked out the best baby artichokes? Did the entremetier, Jennifer, have all the ingredients ready for her potager, Kate, to do the garlic broth? Did she pick out the right pastina? Had Halling gotten the Chilean sea bass? Did Beckett know when to fry the tomato skins? Did Ronon have the lamb chops ready to go?

Everyone was on top of everything. Which meant there was only one station left to check with.

John walked over to the pastry station and found what he would call controlled chaos. Grodin was placing slices of sectioned grapefruit on top of the firmed panna cotta, Kusanagi followed him with tiny stems of rosemary as garnish, and Zelenka followed her drizzling the finishing sauce over the tops of each dessert.

Rodney watched it all unfold like clockwork.

John stood next to him, suddenly very aware of how close he was to Rodney, could almost feel a tangible, skittish energy emanating from beneath Rodney’s skin.

“Ready?” It was the only thing John could think to ask.

Rodney nodded curtly. “I think so. Gotta clean up the dishes and put them back in the fridge to chill again before service.”

John nodded in return. “Alright. They look amazing.”

Rodney turned toward John. “They taste amazing too.”

John looked away. He knew he was being _very_ obvious, but it was hard to keep anything contained right now with so much on the line. The only way he was going to save face was if he got as far from Rodney as quickly as possible.

“See you later, Rodney.” As John turned to leave, Rodney grabbed him by the wrist, which made John jump.

“What? What’s wrong?” John asked, waiting for Rodney to drop a bomb on him about a potential problem.

“Nothing, John. Just...can we talk before you leave tonight?” Rodney’s voice was low so no one else could hear him.

John’s heart felt like it had plummeted to his stomach. He knew they needed to have a conversation, but he wasn’t sure if he would be in the right state of mind for it after dinner service. Rodney’s eyes pleaded with him to say yes, so that’s what John did. Had to listen to his gut instinct, after all.

“Yeah. Meet out back?”

Rodney nodded and gave John’s wrist a gentle squeeze before turning back toward his station and barking orders at his team.

About an hour later, all of the Atlantis staff stood in the dining room, milling about nervously. John made his way through the crowd until he was standing in front of everyone. He saw Elizabeth standing off to the side and motioned for her to come stand by him.

He whispered, “Wow, it’s a good thing you’re dating Sora or else we might not be pulling this off.”

Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. “Okay, really? How did you know?”

John shrugged, his smile playful and teasing. “I just have an eye for that sort of thing.”

Elizabeth smiled, only her smile was a bit more vicious. “Yeah, well so do I, Mister I-Have-A-Crush-On-The-Head-Pastry-Chef.”

John chuckled. “Yeah? Well, just keep it on a need-to-know basis.”

“I always do. Want to get this over with?”

“I kissed him in the dairy walk-in yesterday.”

Elizabeth started to squeal with delight but covered her mouth. “You didn’t,” she said with a muffled voice.

“Yep. So that’s a thing. Anyway, let’s rally the troops.”

John cleared his throat. “Okay, everybody! Listen up!” The staff hushed themselves and waited.

“Tonight will be the same as any other night. I know what you’re all thinking -  _but we have a food critic coming_ \- doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what he has to say at the end of the night, because this is still the best damn restaurant in New York, no matter what some blogger has to say about it.”

The staff began to clap, while a few of the more rambunctious cooks started whooping loudly.

“But seriously, thank you all for your hard work. You’re what makes Atlantis run. You’re the reputation. I’m just the pretty face they stuck on it.”

A few of the women on the staff laughed. Lorne whistled loudly, which made a few more people laugh.

John motioned for Elizabeth to speak, if she wanted to.

“John’s right. Without you, there would be no Atlantis. Let’s work hard tonight, and I’ll see you on the other side. Let’s give Acastus Kolya a meal he will remember.”

The staff burst into applause again. As John clapped, he caught Rodney’s eye and winked at him.

Fortune favored the bold.

*

John took a long drag from his cigarette. Normally he didn’t indulge, but he kept a pack of cigarettes in his desk for when he needed one. And tonight, he definitely needed one.

It was 10 PM, and dinner service was over. John sat outside behind the restaurant, the sounds of the kitchen abandoned for the sounds of the city. Currently the only thing keeping John company was the dumpster, which was fine with him.

The night had gone as perfectly as it could. The kitchen had worked in harmony - a well-oiled machine moving and flowing just as it should. When Kolya was seated, the energy of the kitchen went through the roof, but everyone kept it together. It was a symphony of loud voices and sizzling food, and it was an environment that John thrived in. He made a mental note to thank the expeditor, Cassandra, for doing such a great job of getting plates out.

Still, he was tired. Still, he kept refreshing the home page of Kolya’s blog to see if it was updated.

The door opened behind him.

“Since when do you smoke?”

John smiled and put the cigarette out on the curb. “Once every full moon.”

Rodney sat down next to him. “Nice try. It isn’t even halfway there yet.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Rodney nudged John with his shoulder, and John felt sparks fly through his body.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Rodney glanced down at John’s phone. John refreshed the page again. Still no new post.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Maybe. That’s not why you’re out here, though.”

Rodney chuckled. “No, that one’s on you, smart guy.”

John stood up from the curb and stretched. He turned to face Rodney. “I think this might be the nicest conversation we’ve ever had.”

Rodney shook his head. “That’s not true. I made your favorite pie when you asked me to, remember? That was nice.”

“I didn’t ask you to make my favorite pie, I asked you to make _anything_ we could legitimately -”

“John.”

John paused, watched as Rodney stood up from the curb and closed the distance between them.

“I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get along with, and I know I make your job harder sometimes, what with the innovation as opposed to keeping it simple, but I think innovation is what’ll get us to the top, I mean, what _has_ put us at the top of the New York dining scene, and I really respect you and the freedom you give me and my team and I just -”

The words came pouring out of Rodney, and while John could listen to him talk excitedly about food and the restaurant for hours, all he wanted to do now was shut Rodney up.

So he did. Only this time when John kissed him, Rodney kissed back voraciously. He pulled John closer, and soon all that existed in the world to John Sheppard was the sound of honking cars, the light of the moon, and Rodney McKay.

When they finally broke apart, Rodney was smirking.

John raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I really...really like you.”

John laughed. “Well, I like you too. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

Rodney hesitated. “Although…”

John put on his best pouty face. “Although what?”

“If we’re going to keep doing this…” Rodney kissed John gently on the lips again, savoring the moment.

“Yeah?” John murmured.

“You’ll need to throw those cigarettes out.”

John whined in disapproval. “Come on, Rodney. I need them to come  _down_ from all the chaos in there sometimes.”

Rodney giggled, but they were both interrupted by John’s phone buzzing in his pocket. Rodney took a step back and gestured toward John.

“Check it. Maybe it’s good news.”

John looked - a text from Elizabeth. _Refresh the page, and get down to Athosia ASAP. Feel free to bring Rodney._

John’s eyes grew wide, and he switched back over to his web browser app to refresh Kolya’s blog. When it reloaded, there was a new entry with a headline reading:

_Atlantis - 4.5 out of 5 Stars_

“Yes!” John grabbed Rodney and spun them both in circles. “Four and a half! I’ll take it!”

“What else does it say?” Rodney asked, his voice raising in pitch as his excitement grew.

“Don’t care right now. But Elizabeth says everybody is at Athosia. You in?”

Rodney’s smile faded. “Athosia? Are you sure? I mean obviously you can go, but maybe I shouldn’t go so people won’t think -”

John grabbed Rodney’s hand. “To hell with what people think. Come on. Let’s celebrate.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't worked in a kitchen in many years, and I definitely didn't work in a fine dining kitchen. So, my apologies if any of this seems incorrect or weird. I've read a few books about fine dining kitchens and going to culinary school, so I tried to use the knowledge I gleaned from those. Also, I put that menu together on the fly. Don't know if it would actually fit together well, but I'm saying it did. Basically, I'm a food nerd, so this story was super fun to write. I hope you enjoyed reading it. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRU!


End file.
